This comes of the obsolete Uncle Sam." "I would rather be simple than 'cute!'" I replied; "and my own Uncle Sam will be never obsolete." Silly as I was, I could never speak of the true Uncle Sam in this far country without the bright shame of a glimmer in my eyes; and with this, which I cared not to hide, I took my companion's hand and stood upon the footway of a narrow and crowded lane.
"Move on! move on!" cried a man with a high-crowned hat japanned at intervals, and, wondering at his rudeness to a lady, I looked at him.
But he only said, "Now move on, will you ?" without any wrath, and as if he were vexed at our littleness of mind in standing still.

Nobody heeded him any more than if he had said, "I am starving," but it seemed a rude thing among ladies.

Before I had time to think more about this--for I always like to think of things--I was led through a pair of narrow swinging doors, and down a close alley between two counters full of people paying and receiving money.

The Major, who always knew how to get on, found a white-haired gentleman in a very dingy corner, and whispered to him in a confidential way, though neither had ever seen the other before, and the white-haired gentleman gazed at me as sternly as if I were a bank-note for at least a thousand pounds; and then he said, "Step this way, young lady.

Major Hockin, step this way, Sir." The young lady "stepped that way" in wonder as to what English English is, and then we were shown into a sacred little room, where the daylight had glass reflectors for it, if it ever came to use them.